


Mismatched

by BelWatson



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelWatson/pseuds/BelWatson
Summary: "His words do nothing to calm Jackson, quite the contrary because he cannot forget the fact that with the tumour, all his feelings for Mark will be gone, too. That makes the bloody plant inside him stir and cut through his flesh, making him feel like he’s dying all over again."orJackson's unrequited feelings for Mark make him terminally ill, forcing him to make a decision that will cost him too much.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I am stuck with my other stories… all of them, even the ones I don't post anywhere. I needed to force me to write something to get in the mood again so I tried something easy and short. I wanted to try this trope because I don't know why, I wanted pan maybe. Anyhow, it is completed, short and simple, so I won't take more than a few days to post it all. I hope you enjoy it.

Jackson wakes up with a scream, a bony hand burying in his chest, deeper and deeper, squeezing and tearing through flesh, making way through his ribs until it grabs his heart, the claws cutting through the muscle and gripping it tight… tighter and tighter. The next bony hand follows inside his ribcage, attacking the lungs and everything inside, claws piercing his organs, the blood during through the holes and Jackson is dying. He feels like he’s dying.

The boy starts coughing, bating his hands to hold on to anything, white sheets that do nothing to save him from the claws in his chest, they just tangle in his legs, making him fall to the floor as he gasps for air. Jackson cannot breathe, it feels like his blood is filling his body in all the wrong places and he cannot even scream, he opens his eyes but there’s no one else around, the room is new and unknown for him, but familiar like the many other hotel rooms he’s been in.

He coughs, dry heaving in a desperate attempt to breathe, but it’s not working, his windpipe is blocked, he can feel something in there, slipping but still stuck.

Jackson crawls, desperate and scared, not knowing what’s happening to him, but he needs to do something, he is dying.

Somehow, the young boy makes it to the hotel bathroom and with shaky hands, Jackson grabs the sides of the toilet and pulls himself up, then holding on to the sink. He can see himself on the mirror and there’s no hands buried in his chest, nothing at all, it’s just Jackson, pale, covered in cold sweat, bloodshot eyes and looking like the dead, but there’s nothing else in the reflection.

The grip around his chest and lungs tightens and he’s hovering over the sink, coughing and feeling the clog in his windpipe moving, cutting through his walls like scratches. His mouth fills with blood and bile and more, something more. Jackson keeps coughing and coughing, his whole body spasming with the gag reflexes like a cat throwing up a fur ball.

There’s something in his tongue, so Jackson keeps coughing until he can put his fingers inside his mouth and grab what’s on his tongue. His fingertips come back covered in blood holding something far more horrendous and inexplicable than blood: a red crimson petal.

“What the fuck?” Whispers the boy, his whole body cold and heavy with fear.


	2. II

Shocked. Scared. Petrified. Panicked. Jackson is all of that as he passes the bloody petal through his fingers. The tight and gore sensation in his chest is gone, the nausea and cold sweat, too, but he’s  still shaking with fear. 

Why on Earth did he puke a petal? He didn’t eat anything mysterious or fancy like that, only having time for half a cup of ramen. Then how?

Jackson has done nothing out of ordinary, following his routine, schedule after schedule, barely eating, barely sleeping, holding on to the people he loves and his dreams to keep himself sane, even in the intense loneliness that consumes him. His day had been just like any other, so what changed? He had finished his shooting for the new Chinese variety show, had a meeting and signed to become the face of a new brand, went to a shooting and came back to the hotel room near midnight, where he ate a bit before going to bed. His dreams were plagued by confusing and impossible images of unachievable things, like flying, or Mark loving him back. The usual impossible dreams.

When Jackson’s thoughts focus on Mark his chest tightens and it hurts, it’s like the claws are back inside, piercing his flesh. It always hurts to think of Mark, that’s nothing new, but the pain now feels far more real and suffocating.

Trying not to feel any worse, Jackson forces his thoughts away from Mark and his unrequited love, to focus on a more piercing matter. Literally.

Jackson is too freaked out to call anyone, not knowing how to explain what happened and scared that if he goes to the hospital it’ll become another scandal and fans will worry about his health. He is sure this issue has nothing to do with this demanding schedule and his bad habit of pushing himself beyond the limit.

Like any normal human being would do, Jackson opens his laptop and starts looking up his symptoms. Surprised, he realises he isn’t the first to search for ‘what does it mean to throw up petals?’ To his relief, many people have received the answer that it’s called Hanahaki Disease and it isn’t as uncommon as one might think. Some answers even have contact information of a doctor that specialises in treating the condition. To his shock, Jackson also learns it’s born out of one-side love.

“Ah, Mark,” Jackson mumbles.


	3. III

“You have nothing to worry about,” The very old yet very kind doctor Jackson found in Seoul that knew how to treat his disease says, warm and relaxed smile, his eyes two crescents that remind Jackson oddly of Jinyoung, with the creases at the corners like cat whiskers. “It has a solution and once you go through this, it’ll be solved and you’ll never have to deal with it again.”

“I don’t even fully know what I have, I don’t understand it. Do I really have a plant growing inside of me?”

The doctor laughs, shaking his head.

“Objectively speaking, no you don’t. Not a plant per se, but you do grow a tumour. To explain it, it’s a mental disease born out of your one-side love. Your mind gives shape to the pain in your _heart_ with a tumour in your lungs, or other organs like stomach. It is a very aggressive tumour but it doesn’t spread, it just grows and it destroys your organ, which is what makes you throw up blood.”

“But I saw a petal! I had a petal in my fingers!” Jackson cries out, not understanding what the man is saying.

“That’s why it’s a mental illness. The mind is a very powerful thing, son. The tumour becomes somewhat a plant, a manifestation of your pain. The more advanced, the more similar to a plant it becomes. In dangerous cases, actual thorns pierce through the flesh and can quickly kill the patient. You said you coughed a petal and blood, didn’t you?” Jackson nods his head. “Then it means the tumour has grown into a plant with thorns that are piercing in your organ. Normally, the coughing begins with just petals from the first flower that withers inside.”

“Do I really have a bloody flower inside of me?”

“Not as you know it, but similar. A mutation that grows flowers. It’s almost magical, the studies are still ongoing to figure out exactly how our minds can form this. It was hard to accept it was due to the feelings of hopeless and rejection that come with a one-sided love. It is a wonderful thing,” the doctor continues but Jackson cannot feel his excitement, he is just horrified.

“It doesn’t feel magical to me, Doctor, it feels painful and freaky!” Jackson cries out, making the doctor duck his head.

“I’m sorry, son, I got carried away.” Jackson only sighs, trying to force his feelings to stay under control. “But even if it sounds terrible, there’s a simple solution. We just need to get the tumour removed and heal the wounds that the thorns left inside, and you’ll be good as new. The petals and your one-sided love will be gone.”

“My one-sided love? What do you mean?” Jackson questions, frown deep and demanding.

“The tumour has also the same type of cells as the brain, which creates a connection with your feelings. With the removal of it, we break the connection with the brain and your feelings. You won’t feel anything for the person you’re in love with now, and you’ll be cured. Isn’t it marvellous?”

Jackson feels cold to the bone when he hears that, his heart skips a beat and the thorns in his chest move, squeezing his heart and making him want to throw up again. He starts coughing, immediately feeling something coming up his windpipe, choking him and making him feel desperate because he cannot breathe. He coughs more and more, his body shaking as he tries to get it out of his windpipe. He barely feels the hand of the doctor on his back, patting to help him expel the petal, because it has to be that.

It feels like forever when he finally feels the alien object in his tongue, finally able to be picked with his fingers. Once again, a blood tainted rose petal.

Jackson stares at it with horror and pain burning inside his ribcage. The old doctor is standing next to him, still patting his back in a more soothing way.

“Don’t worry, son. I have performed even more crucial and complicated removals, I’m a leading expert and I’ll get this tumour out of you without problem. You’ll recover quickly and continue with your life as if nothing happened.”

His words do nothing to calm Jackson, quite the contrary because he cannot forget the fact that with the tumour, all his feelings for Mark will be gone, too. That makes the bloody plant inside him stir and cut through his flesh, making him feel like he’s dying all over again.

“Let’s run some tests to find out exactly the size of your tumour and precise location, shall we?”

Jackson doesn’t reply verbally, he just can’t. He squeezes the petal in his hand and nods, not knowing what else to do.


	4. IV

GOT7’s dorm. Jackson is back home and he feels lightheaded, confused and lost. The tests showed the plant—er, tumour— is locate in his left lung, quite big with proper thorns buried in the walls of the organ, threading to break through it. Based on the petals he throws up, the flower inside must be a rose.

The doctor had asked Jackson when he wanted the surgery, but instead of an approximate date, the young boy only asked for some time to think about it. It’s too hard for Jackson to actually accept he’s sick for loving Mark, that he developed a tumour that is becoming a proper plant inside and he’s coughing blood and petals… just because Mark doesn’t love him back.

Jackson read online his illness would be cured if he was loved back, but his mind can’t wrap around that option.

Mark… ah, Mark. Jackson’s loved him probably since the beginning. The first time he saw Mark Jackson was gone, and he has no way to explain what happened to him. Perhaps, it was Mark’s smile, all sharp teeth and honest glee, maybe it was the chiming sound of his laughter, contagious and sweet. Maybe it was the fierce need to protect the skinny and fragile boy in front of him that overwhelmed him, even if soon he learned Mark needn’t protection at all. Regardless the reason, Jackson was infatuated since they first met and his feelings only grew deeper and stronger as they spent more and more time together, being roommates and best friends.

It’s been so many years already, so long loving Mark on his own that Jackson cannot phantom the idea of not loving Mark, not having all these feelings inside. Jackson won’t feel dizzy with overwhelming longing when Mark calls him after he's been away for too long. He won’t feel whole when he comes back and sees Mark smiling in greeting again. He won’t feel the lingering of Mark’s tough on his skin as something special anymore. He won’t worship every moment they spend together. He won’t feel _anything_ for Mark, again. He won’t even consider Mark a friend anymore! And that thought alone terrifies him more than the thorns in his lungs.

Jacksons knows, he knows it’s hopeless. Mark will never love him back and if he doesn’t get the tumour removed, then he’ll die. There’s no way a love is worth a person’s life, all movies and plays about that can suck it. Yet… yet Jackson is so reluctant to give up his feelings for Mark. 

What is he? Stupid hormonal Juliet, killing herself for her lover? Hell no, Jackson isn’t a thirteen-year-old whiny girl deceived into believing her infatuation was actual love to die for. No, Jackson is a grownup who has known Mark for years to know for certain he loves him. 

Yeah, Jackson knows he needs to get the surgery, too. Just… Just fuck.


	5. V

Blood tainted petals escape Jackson’s lips more often now, from his lungs they go up his windpipe, choking him and making him cough blood with the petals. The thorns pierce his lungs and it hurts, it hurts so much like claws tearing his flesh open. He doubles over the sink and coughs and coughs, getting out of his mouth one or two petals painted in blood.

Jackson cries in pain and desperation, hiding his illness from everyone else in the house. Luckily, he throws one or two petals at the time and he can flush them easily. It’s always so painful he never wakes up with petals on his pillow like other cases, —Jackson has even contacted other patients, trying to find advise and comfort. His attacks are violent, bloody and excruciating, and they always start with the claws in his chest so Jackson knows he must run to the toilet immediately. 

He hasn’t called the doctor yet, for days he’s just gone with the motions, hiding his illness and trying to gather the courage to get the surgery.

Claws bury in his heart and lungs, knocking the air out of his lungs and making him drown in blood. He runs to the bathroom and curls around the toilet, coughing desperately to get the petals out. Blood splutters on the toilet walls, small red dots against the ceramic. More blood comes with every cough, the pain burning him from within as he keeps coughing.

Finally, four petals come out of his mouth that’s filled with blood. Every time there’s more and more blood, and ultimately that’s what pushing him to accept he has to say goodbye to his feelings for Mark


	6. VI

“Mark,” Jackson calls from the other side of the door, feeble and slow. His illness is taking everything out of him, killing him way too fast. Jackson figured out his tumour must’ve started long ago but he didn’t show any symptoms until it was too severe.

“Yeah?” Mark replies, tearing his eyes off of his mobile phone. “What’s wrong?” Inquires Mark, noticing the deplorable state Jackson’s in, shifting to sit upright on the mattress, expression contorted in worry and anxiety.

“Got a bad cold… the flu maybe?” Jackson shrugs, what he’s told everyone to mask his constant coughing, his hurried races to the toilet and the time he’s taking off work. “Nothing to worry,” continues the idol, walking inside and sitting at the end of the bed. “I came for another thing, actually.”

“What's it?” Questions the other boy, but he looks far from at ease with the situation and Jackson's state.

"If a really close friend of yours were in love with you, and like, he _really_ needed you to love him back, would you do it?” 

For Jackson’s sake, he needs to make sure there’s absolutely no hope of Mark loving him back before he goes to get the surgery, but he cannot confess so he needs to find another way to ask Mark.

“What?” The older boy is clearly confused, his frown a sigh of that. “You mean like out of pity? Of course no, Jackson. I wouldn’t date a close fiends just so I don’t hurt that person, I can’t date someone I don't love. Even if that person is depressed or anything else, I can’t date without feelings.”

Jackson nods, understanding Mark. If anyone suddenly came to him telling him he was in love with Jackson and needed him to love him back to stop a tumour in his lungs… agreeing would be pity, not love.

“Why do you ask? Did someone confess?” Mark asks him, one eyebrow arched, his expression tense.

Jackson decides to lie.

“Oh,” Jackson says. “But I cannot force me to love him.” Mark nods with tight lips, agreeing but also still worried. “What if he could die if I don’t love him?”

“Did he threaten you saying he’d kill himself if you don’t love him back?!” Mark exclaims, clearly alarmed and Jackson shakes his head and hands for more emphasis. 

“He’s just… really depressed.”

“You can support him to get better, but dating him out of pity is wrong. It’s not real love if you force yourself so it’ll never be what he needs or wants. Support him, encourage him to get better but don’t be fake,” Mark advises and Jackson nods again, fully understanding. 

“Yes, you’re right. You can’t force someone to love you back, it would be a lie and it wouldn’t help on the long run,” Jackson muses, knowing that even if he tells Mark, he will not love him back and Jackson would always know it, then the flowers would never stop. “You're right.”

Yes, Jackson, needs to get better, not believe Mark will ever love him back or even deceive himself into believing so.

Time to call the doctor.


	7. VII

“Count back from ninety and when you wake up next, you’ll be good as new,” the old doctor says with a confident smile, reassuring and kind.

The room isn’t cold, but it feels like it. Blue and steel, sterile. Many people around, completely covered, Jackson can only see their eyes. He doesn’t feel calm, he is still scared, terrified of what it’ll feel to see Mark the next time. The doctor reassures him the surgery will be done in no time and in a few days he’ll be cleared up and will walk back home.

However, Jackson made his mind. He knows Mark will never love him and he will not die to hold on to his feelings. Jackson is trying to get better and he’ll figure out how to continue his friendship with Mark after the tumour is gone. After he stops coughing petals covered in blood.

“Ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight…” Jackson begins, and quickly he starts to feel tired, his eyelids heavy. His counting matches the beep of his heartbeats marked by the machines.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

_Beep…beep…_

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

And Jackson is sound asleep.

 


	8. VIII

“Good afternoon, son," Jackson hears as he comes back to consciousness, God knows how many hours later.

His eyelids flutter open slowly, the white room a stab to his eyes so he shuts them close immediately, groaning in protest. A few seconds later, he tries again, slower and more carefully, taking little by little the light in the white room where a nurse and his doctor are standing, checking his vitals.

Jackson takes a deep breath, realising the surgery is done, it’s over. Physically, he doesn’t feel anything. No pain, no discomfort, no anything, he barely feels his body at all and it is probably due to strong painkillers.

Immediately, he thinks of Mark, recalling his face, his smile… and there’s nothing. Not even fondness, nothing at all. Where there used to be so many feelings that even made him sick, there’s nothing now and oddly, Jackson feels empty.

“How are you feeling? Any pain?” The doctor speaks before walking up to him to check on his chest, where the opened him to get to his lungs and remove the tumour. “Everything is normal and we’re giving you all the necessary drugs to speed up your recovery. This is another wonderful thing about this illness, this survival instinct. Once the feelings, the source of illness, are gone, your brain rushes your body to heal faster to move on and made up for the damage caused. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Jackson opens his mouth but only a hoarse sound comes out, so he only nods faintly with a little smile, indeed amazed with how much his brain can do. It almost killed him, and now it’s helping him to heal.

It is truly a marvellous illness, and now it’s finally gone.

Jackson smiles.

 


	9. IX

To the world, Jackson is back home to take a rest with his parents. To his parents, he is taking a break somewhere else and then he’ll go to see them, once he’s discharged. Only his doctor knows of his condition and the secret will die with him. 

The bloody rose is gone, and so it’s his problem.

Jackson is healing and he doesn’t even know why he was so reluctant to get the surgery. What a fool he was.

Everything is right now.

 


	10. X

It’s almost a month later when Jackson comes back to the dorm, perfectly healed from his illness. No more blood, no more coughing, no more petals or thorn in his organs. All is well with Jackson and he used his break for the better. He went to see his parents and catch up on sleep and rest. Now he’s ready to go back to his normal routine.

“Hyung!” BamBam screams, the first to notice Jackson is back and running to greet him. They’ve kept in touch but it’s different to properly see someone you’re so close with. 

Jackson opens his arms to his dear friend and receives him warmly. The other idols learn he’s back thanks to BamBam’s scream and soon, one by one, they come out of their rooms to greet him. Jackson’s missed them and is happy to see them, feeling well and perfect. He is delighted to see how Jaebum’s expressions softens when he sees Jackson recovered instead of a skinny pale fragile mess. Jinyoung also looks at ease and happy to see him while Yugyeom and BamBam cling to him. Youngjae is living with his brother so he’ll see the other boy the next day.

Mark comes last, rushed footsteps echo as he runs from his room to the living room, eyes wide and expression excited. He stops in front of Jackson with the two youngest members and it seems like Mark’s soul is back in his body when he sees Jackson looking like his old self, smiling happily and hugging the kids.

Mark smiles.

Jackson feels nothing.

During the three weeks with his parents. Jackson watched his old interactions with Mark, trying to feel at least that fondness he does for the other members, but nothing worked. He felt more regard for his bed than what he did for Mark, which was a worry because they are group members and work together. Now Mark stands in front of him and he still feels nothing. Mark is less than a stranger, more like an inanimate object that doesn’t awake anything in him.

Nothing at all.

Jackson tries to smile at the eldest idol, but his smile isn’t fond or warm or honest and Mark notices it, his face falls and his eyes look at him with newfound worry.

“I missed you all,” Jackson says to distract Mark. He doesn't mean to include Mark in that statement, but allows the other to believe it just to avoid conflict.

Mark smiles but his smile is as fake as Jackson’s, but the latter doesn’t even care.

Truly, all his feelings for Mark are gone… and he doesn’t mind.

 


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the chapters are from Mark's POV to see what happenes after Jackson's decision. The story has 20 chapters, I think I hadn't said it before. I thank everyone who's reading this and especially those who leave comments. You make me so happy ^.^

Jackson is different. Mark noticed it the exact moment he came back after his month break. His eyes were different, his smile cold and fake, but only towards him. Jackson is the same to everyone but Mark, and that hurts, it hurts so much.

As Mark lies on his bed, clutching his pillow and hugging it as he curls on the mattress, Mark hurts.

Jackson’s always been warm and kind, honest even when he was angry and tried to give him the cold shoulder just to come back three hours later to nag him about something. Jackson’s always been caring in his soft and absentminded caresses, in his hugs and little details. He has never treated anyone differently, everyone receiving the same love. Mark has never felt like anyone is more important than another to Jackson, at least in GOT7. All the members are precious for Jackson, but now Mark is excluded. 

It is so evident Jackson is forcing himself to act the same with Mark, but all his actions are fake and void of affection. He doesn’t smile encouragingly, he doesn’t caress him when Mark lies his hands on him, he doesn’t even drop by his room to talk for a bit. For Mark it feels like an impostor of Jackson came back instead _his_ Jackson.

Mark hurts so much because he misses Jackson even more now. It kills him seeing Jackson looking the same but at the same time, completely gone. Jackson doesn’t even react if Mark burns himself while eating ramen!

The desolation he feels is choking Mark, it makes him feel like there’s something inside that doesn’t let him breathe or eat.

Mark’s been doing well for so long, he was honestly well and had accepted his feelings for Jackson. He was content with just having the younger idol loving him as a friend, treating him as lovingly as Jackson treated everyone. That was enough for Mark. But now he doesn’t even have that, now Jackson looks like he doesn’t give a shit about Mark, and the hopelessness consumes Mark from within.

What happened to _his_ Jackson?


	12. XII

Mark cannot eat. Whatever he puts in his mouth ends up coming back not much later. He can only drink things, so he is powering himself with energy drinks, vitamins and protein shakes. It’s probably due to the whole situation with Jackson, because he feels worse after he’s seen one of Jackson’s fake and cold smiles, or his eyes void of any emotion whatsoever. After that Mark feels like throwing up even if he doesn’t have anything in his stomach to throw up.

One morning, Jackson accidentally hits his cereal bowl, dropping it and almost breaking it. The alarm and worry in his eyes as he checks the bowl feels like a punch in Mark’s guts because he doesn’t even get that. Mark has lost three kilos already, he’s paler than usual and he can barely sleep, but Jackson hasn’t even asked him if there’s something wrong with him.

The rejection and alienation is so extreme Mark feels like puking right there. He cannot even excuse himself as he feels the lump in his stomach grow, punching and scratching him within, as if there was something inside. He rushes to the bathroom, locking the door behind and starts gaging, hovering the toilet as his eyes fill with tears, his body trembling with pain and rejection.

Mark’s body spasms, it feels like his own stomach wants to escape him. Mark continues trying to push whatever he has, even if it-s only bile, just to get over with it. He even takes his fingers inside his mouth to force himself to throw up and it works, it finally works but there's no digested food or liquid, just a bit of bile tainting yellow heart-shaped petals.

Mark recoils, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, horrified with what he just puked.

“ _What the fuck?_ ” Mark whines, tears falling down his cheeks.

 


	13. XIII

Petals. Mark is throwing up petals. Not once, but many times. Many petals. Yellow petals that seem to belong to a primrose, based on his little knowledge on flowers and what he could find online. He cannot stop coughing them, they escape him and now his pockets always have a few when he doesn’t make it to the bathroom and has to hide the petals in his hands while he coughs until the attack has passed. He still cannot eat, so he’s taking pills to keep himself alive. He can barely sleep because petals keep wanting to escape; when he manages to fall asleep it’s only to wake up with his pillow covered in yellow petals.

Mark is sick.


	14. XIV

Internet research tells Mark that he isn’t schizophrenic, he isn’t crazy and he is actually puking petals. There is such illness and crazily, it’s due to unrequited love.

Mark is crazy.

What kind of human throws up petals because the they aren’t loved back? Why him and not everyone? It’s not his first unrequited love! Then why? Why is this happening to Mark? And it seems he has a whole fucking garden inside because he throws up just _so many_ petals. 

Mark is crazy. If not crazy, then he is going crazy.

Mark is crazy in unrequited love.

Internet tells him it's a mortal illness if not treated, the plant inside him growing more and more until destroying his organs and killing him. There are two ways to save him: he either gets his feelings returned or he gets the plant removed.

Neither of those is happening to Mark.

Mark reads that the surgery has a ninety-eight percent chance of success, that people recover easily and don’t even present a relapse —only odd and extreme cases—, but that with the surgery all his feelings for his object of affection will disappear.

There’s no way Mark is removing all his feelings for Jackson.

Mark has to learn to live with his fucking flowers. He looking up the meaning of primrose, because if fate is playing with him, it cannot be just any flower. Primrose mean _I cannot live without you._  

Exactly.

Mark cannot live without Jackson, having the other idol being so cold and like another person is insufferable, Mark just can’t get rid of his feelings for Jackson. These are too precious to him, Jackson is too precious to him that Mark cannot imagine a life without loving him.

When Mark was struggling in Korea, trying to adapt, missing home every second, Jackson showed up. Jackson, bright, happy, loud, obnoxious, unbearably kind, caring, funny Jackson. He came to his life like the California sun he missed so much, it warmed him up and gave him a feeling of home. Jackson hugged him and Mark felt whole and like he could carry on. Since the beginning, Jackson’s been Mark’s sun and there’s no way Mark can go and live in a word without sun. He just can’t.

Mark isn’t getting any surgery.


	15. XV

Mark bought primroses to keep in his room and other parts of the dorm. The others are confused as to why he’s bringing flowers every few days, but they don’t question if they find spare petals around the flat.

Mark is eating… just a little without throwing up. He has to make everything into a shake and drink it, slowly. He makes sure every shake has the vitamins and nutrients he needs, and he gets shots to keep himself alive. Doing everything he can just not to lose too much weight and to stay strong to carry on as an idol. When the others ask him —everyone except Jackson— why he looks so pale and sick, Mark replies he’s just tired and he misses home.

Jackson continues not caring about him.

Mark continues throwing up yellow petals, he doesn’t even remove his face mask by now.

Yellow petals in his sheets. On his pillow. On his carpet. In his pockets. Yellow heart-shaped petals everywhere. 

One day, Mark is alone at home because J.Y. Park ordered him to take it easy until he stops looking unhealthy pale and he looks just chic pale. Mark nods and obeys even if that isn’t happening, but it’s okay, he cannot do anything else like photoshoots or whatever. He wants to sleep even if he can’t. He wants to eat, even if he can’t.

He is completely alone at home, so he curls in a blanket on the sofa, watching television, feeling sleep crawling, calling him, but his flowers don’t let him fall asleep, instead he coughs more petals.

By now, the petals slip so easily from his lips, almost effortless. He just coughs and the petals are out, as if they were waiting in his oesophagus.

Mark is so tired, just lying on the sofa, eyes closed, the telly loud muffling every sound, many petals on the floor, tangled in the blanket he keeps up to his neck.

Mark knows he is dying and he isn’t scared, not really. He is worried, wondering how long it’ll take, for how long he’ll keep it hidden. He worries about any of the members —not Jackson, he doesn’t care— finding out he is sick and forcing him to get the surgery. What if his parents find out? They’d definitely force him, not caring about Mark’s idiotic need to hold on to his feelings for Jackson. No, no one would care about what he wants, they would just force him to stay alive even if that means taking away from him the most important thing he has: his love for Jackson.

Just thinking of one day not feeling _anything_ at all for Jackson makes his symptoms even worse, as if the flowers grew tenfold and forced him to throw up many more petals. He doubles over and lets the petals fall to the floor, coughing until he feels he can finally breathe again.

Exhausted, he lays back, catching his breath and wiping away the petal in the corner of his mouth. He is so tired he cannot even listen to the telly, he cannot even open his eyes. 

Maybe he’ll die sooner than expected.

Mark is worrying about how to explain to his parents what he did when he’s on his deathbed, how to finally confess to Jackson he’s loved him all along, so much he ended up growing primroses inside of him, probably in his stomach, and he let himself die because he couldn’t live without him, without loving him.

“What the fuck?!” Someone screams, a voice that’s all too familiar and that breaks through Mark’s daydream of his final moment. 

Mark’s head snaps towards the voice, meeting Jackson’s wide eye, watching him in disbelief. Watching Mark and all the petals around him, all the evidence that Mark is a freak.

“Jackson,” Mark whimpers, suffocated and horrified that the person who must’ve never found out is the first to witness his freak show. “I can explain.”

“You better do, Mark Tuan.”

And he will, Mark will explain and figure out what to do…but his flowers get in the way, growing, moving, tearing him apart from inside and Mark is gasping for air, right in front of Jackson, with the most violent attack he’s ever experienced. He starts drowning as he coughs and gags, trying to survive this. Falling off the sofa, on his knees, crying in pain and shaking in fear as he feels the petals coming up from his stomach, slow and burning him.

This time Mark doesn’t throw up only petals, oh no, Mark throws up a whole flower, a clear primrose, withered and disgusting, but an evident flower. Mark is mortified, but that’s nothing to what he feels when he looks up and meets Jackson’s eyes, not cold but horrified, angry.

“ _Gaga,”_ Mark cries, tears rolling down his cheeks and flowers choking him.

 


	16. XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loads of swearing, sorry.

“Fucking hell, Mark!” Jackson screams as Mark shivers like a withered flower in the middle of a storm, pitiful and dying. “Who is it?”

“W-what?”

“Whom are you in love with?” Jackson clears up and Mark freezes, even the flowers inside stop moving, he just… breathes in, and out. “WHO IS IT, MARK?!" Jackson barks, stomping threateningly. “Who is your fucking unrequited love that made you grow fucking flowers inside?!”

Mark blinks once, twice… slowly, trying to understand. How does Jackson know? 

“For fuck’s sake, Mark, speak!”

Mark recoils, startled and scared, but that works to shake him from his stupor and stop gaping at Jackson.

“H-how do you…?” Mark begins to ask, but he chokes on another petal that only seems to make Jackson more infuriated.

“Who. Is. It?” Jackson pushes, looking more severe than Mark’s ever seen him.

The older boy has to look away, pulling the blanket around his shoulders to protect himself. This wasn’t the plan, Mark wasn’t going to confess until he was _about_ to die, but he probably wasn’t going to do it even then because Jackson wouldn’t care if he was dying. The old Jackson would’ve come to say goodbye.

Mark still can’t understand why Jackson changed just with him.

“It’s…” Make begins, trembling and incapable of meeting Jackson’s eyes. “It’s... you.”

Mark shuts his eyes tighter, holding his breath, waiting for Jackson’s reaction, something Mark cannot predict. Old Jackson would’ve joked, saying obviously Mark is in love with him because who couldn’t he? And in his joking, he would’ve comforted Mark and asked him to please, save himself because he couldn’t love him like that. Mark has no clue how this Jackson will react.

Laughter. 

Jackson laughs, sardonically, still angry and it cuts Mark so deep he feels like he’ll bleed out right there. The sound is like daggers cutting through his flesh.

“That’s fucking rich,” Jackson wheezes. Mark keeps his eyes shut, hiding from Mark. “You love me? _Now?_ Now you love me? Couldn’t you love me two months ago?”

There’s another laughing fit, but this time it sounds angrier and Mark dares to peek and watch Jackson losing his head. 

“Your timing fucking sucks!”

“I’ve loved you since the beginning…” Mark confesses, hurt in ways he cannot even explain or understands. The flowers inside of him are the softest ache in his body right now.

Jackson’s face falls, there’s no anger anymore but fury. Jackson looks murderous.

“The _beginning?_ ” The idol echoes. “You loved me since the beginning?” Mark only nods, trying to stay brave and keep his head high, but he can barely breathe. “Fucking hell, Mark! Why couldn’t you say it before?!” Jackson roars in a way it reminds Mark of a dinosaur. 

He’s terrified. 

“Why couldn’t you just say or do anything before? Or why haven’t you gotten rid of that fucking tumour already before it got to this? Why are you killing yourself for fucking unrequited feelings?!”

“They might not matter to you but my feelings are important to me! I can’t give you up like that even if you don't give a shit about me now!” Mark raises his voice, not only hurt but also offended. 

“I cannot love you back!” Jackson fights back, fists clenched so tight his knuckles are all white and he’s trembling. “You said it yourself, you can’t date out of pity. It would be a lie. I cannot save you, so you have to save yourself!”

“I won’t give up my feelings!” Mark insists, he already made his mind.

“I DID!” Jackson cries out so loud it feels like the whole flat is trembling with the intensity of his voice. “I gave up my feelings for you, following your advice! I got the fucking flowers removed because I wasn’t going to die for an unrequited love! You told me to get better!”

Mark takes in a sharp breath in, his eyes widening to the point it feels his eyes will pop out of their sockets.

“I got the surgery, I have the fucking horrid scar on my chest because you never said anything before! You loved me back but never said anything and I was dying! The thorns buried in my lungs. I didn’t cough only petals, I coughed blood every time! Because you didn’t say anything!” Jackson continues ranting, so enraged he is shaking. “I went through all that because you couldn’t say anything.”

“You never said anything either!” Mark defends himself, not processing what’s happening.

“I WAS COUGHING BLOOD! You just puke petals, you have no idea what it was for me!” Jackson screams again, this time looking hurt. “And now you won’t even get the surgery, you fucking martyr. It’s hopeless, give up.” Mark is shaking his head, he won’t change his mind no matter what Jackson says. “You impossible asshole! I HATE YOU!” Jackson’s roars and his words carry the burning hatred of his statement, they wrap around him and burn him alive.

Jackson hates him.


	17. XVII

Jackson storms out the flat.

Mark cries on the floor, understanding Jackson loved him back, so much he grew roses in his lungs and almost died. Jackson got the surgery and that’s what changed him. Jackson doesn’t love him anymore.

Jackson hates Mark.

 


	18. XVIII

Two months after his surgery Jackson gets his first emotion regarding Mark and isn’t fondness, oh no, Jackson feels hatred. Burning hatred. And quickly after hatred comes resentment, disappointment, frustration and despair. One emotion after the other, they attack him with the strength of a tsunami, consuming his mind with just Mark.

Mark. Mark. Mark. Mark.

Mark who developed the same illness he did because he was convinced he was in an unrequited love.

Mark who’s loved Jackson since the beginning, too.

Mark who’s throwing up petals, so many petals, even a whole flower.

Mark who couldn’t say anything before, saving them both from the mortal illness.

Now Jackson feels regret and self-loathing, because it’s the same for him. He could’ve been brave and confessed to Mark, sparing himself and Mark. He would’ve never grown roses in his lungs and got the surgery, Mark wouldn’t be throwing petals right now.

And then comes sorrow for the lost possibility of being happy together. Jackson lost his love for Mark while Mark is foolishly holding on to his feelings like Jackson couldn’t do.

Sadness replaces rage. 

Then Jackson is sorry.

One emotion after the other they come back, all about Mark this time, overwhelming him, choking him. It’s like he cannot breathe again, as if the piercing roses are back in his lungs. It’s so much at once Jackson is dizzy and he cannot walk. He has to stop on his way out, crouching down and burying his face in his knees, trying to calm down but the emotions keep coming at him, trapping him.

Jackson starts to whimper.

The catalyst made its job, now Jackson’s emotions exploded and he’s drowning.

He’s drowning.


	19. XIX

Jackson remembers with emotions now. He recalls the first time he saw Mark smile and how his stomach felt full of butterflies, thinking that right in front of him was the most precious person on the whole planet. He knew in that moment that Mark would be someone special to him and today he feels his stomach tingling with the memory.

 

Mark cries with regret and sorrow as he realises Jackson loved him and all that love is gone, taken away and only a scar was left behind. He lost him. His Jackson is gone and now for sure he’ll never love him back again. Mark cries.

 

Jackson remembers the first time Mark cried in his arms because he missed home so much, because he was scared he wouldn’t make it. Jackson felt the same, he could understand exactly how Mark felt so he hugged him tighter and promised him to be his home in Korea so he wouldn’t feel so lost ever again. Jackson remembers that determination to keep Mark happy and help him through everything, and he now feels so guilty knowing he’s the one making Mark miserable. 

 

Mark sobs, hating himself for never stepping forward and taking a risk. For never even trying to make Jackson love him back or anything. He lost his chance to love and be happy for being coward. Mark deserves the flowers killing him from inside.

 

Jackson remembers the longing he felt every time he was away from Mark, how it made his chest so tight he could barely breathe. And he remembers his excitement when he was going back home, knowing Mark would be there, smiling beautifully, all sharp teeth and eyes like crescent moons. Now Jackson feels the same longing for the lost chances and love.

 

Mark cries more and throws more petals, and this time the petals come out with red dots… blood. Mark is getting worse. Mark is really dying.

 

Jackson cries because he feels the hole in his chest, where all his feelings for Mark once resided, filling in with new emotions. Dark, gloomy, painful, sorrowful emotions. Jackson cries because he wants his feelings back, he doesn’t want Mark to die. Mark cannot die.

 

Mark has decided… Jackson is right, he needs to get better. Mark will get the surgery.

 

Jackson has decided… he will get his love back. Mark will live.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the last chapter tomorrow :)


	20. XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I was going to post this tomorrow, but… Tomorrow's Dad's surgery so I won't have time (most likely) so I just post it now before going to sleep while listening on Verse2 on repeat… again… hahahah ahahah ahaha… ha… *sobs*  
> Anyhow, enjoy the finale! And let me know if you'd like to get an epilogue or something.
> 
> You can find on twitter as @MonirenBelen if you ever wanna chat or something.
> 
> Oh, and thank you for reading this story~

Mark knows Jackson won’t come back home for a while. Nevertheless, he still grabs some of his few belongings and walks out after cleaning the flowery mess. He needs space and to go to the doctor, schedule his surgery so he’ll recover like Jackson did.

He rents a hotel room and makes the required calls to get an appointment with a specialist in the area. He turns off his mobile and completely disappears, not giving a single explanation aside from a note saying he’d be back in a few weeks.

The next day, Mark visits the doctor and allows the very old yet very kind doctor to speak, clearly passionate about the illness and how _wonderful_ it is. Mark doesn’t listen, he just coughs petals and when Jackson slips in his mind, the petals come out with blood, which is most of the time.

The doctor sends him to run some tests and schedules his surgery in a week’s time.

 

For a week, Mark hides in the hotel room, covering it in blood tainted yellow petals, just drinking water, completely giving up on food or vitamins or anything. He’s just keeping himself alive until the surgery, after that he’ll be able to eat again, and work, and just have his old life back.

He’ll just lose Jackson in exchange. But then again, he never had Jackson.

 

The day of Mark’s surgery, he drags himself to the hospital following all the procedure, checking in his room and waiting for a nurse to come to help him get ready for surgery.

In a few hours everything will be gone. His flowers… his feelings.

The door slides open and Mark turns to greet the nurse, but instead of a hospital employee the person storming inside is an idol, a young man he knows so well. Mark’s eyes widen in shock, not believing what he’s seeing. He’s probably anaesthetised and dreaming as the doctor opens his stomach to remove the tumour, because there’s no way Jackson is in his room.

“Thank God you’re here,” Jackson breathes out, his legs shaky and he seeks support in the nearest surface. 

Mark continues gasping for air.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you. Barging into every doctor’s door to ask for you. Thank goodness you’re here,” Jackson repeats, panting hard to catch his breath.

“Why… why are you here?” Mark asks.

Jackson smiles, hurting Mark so deep when he does because it’s like his old smiles, it has warmth and fondness, and it breaks Mark to the point he wants to cry out for mercy.

“I came to stop you,” Jackson explains. “When you disappeared I knew you had decided to get the surgery, and I freaked out. I went berserk trying to find you and stop you.”

Mark cannot breathe, he cannot move anything voluntarily or involuntarily, he’s just frozen as his head spins.

“After that fight everything went high wire. I was incapable of feeling _anything_ for you before that, but after that all sort of emotions came back. Good and bad emotions. I could _feel_ for you again.”

Jackson takes a step closer and Mark’s breath hitches, finally some air into his lungs. His eyes fill with tears and this time he blinks. When he opens his eyes, Jackson is closer.

“I don’t want you to die, but I don’t want you to get the surgery,” Jackson explains, walking towards him until he’s in front of Mark. Boldly, the younger takes one of Mark’s hands in his, squeezing it. “Don’t get the surgery.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Keep coughing flowers?” Mark breathes out, feeling choked.

“No, you’re supposed to let me love you back.”

Mark is shaking his head before Jackson even finishes the sentence.

“No, you can’t do that,” Mark points out.

“Yes, I can,” Jackson refutes. “I loved you _so much_ once, I _know_ I can love you again. I am starting to love you again, Mark.”

“You don’t love me,” Mark whispers, closing his eyes and trembling, feeling his throat closing up and the flowers moving inside.

“Not like I used to love you, but I do love you enough to know I can’t lose you again. In no time I’ll love you like before, or more. Just… just don’t get the surgery and let’s give this a try. Don’t do what I did, Mark. Don’t.”

Mark doesn’t want to cry, he’s tired of that. But he’s hurting in every possible way and this shimmery hope is blinding him, wrapping around him and warming him up after so long in the cruelest cold.

“Mark,” Jackson calls, a plea so soft it makes Mark whimper, even more when he feels the younger’s hand cupping his face, thumb gently stroking his cheek, wiping away the stubborn tears that still fell against Mark’s will. “Please.”

“It would be a lie… the flowers won’t be gone,” Mark whispers, so exhausted.

“It’s not a lie, it’s a certain possibility, a promising hope. Mark, just trust me. If you get the surgery I’m gonna grow roses again!”

Mark gaps at that threat, his eyes widening in horror and fear, but Jackson is just smiling, raising his other hand to cup Mark’s other cheek.

“Trust me?” Jackson whispers with his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Mark bites his lips together, not knowing what to do. Then Jackson presses their foreheads together, grounding Mark with the contact as he feels the breath of the younger on his own skin, warm and real.

“Don’t stop loving me,” Jackson pleads one more time and Mark feels his whole body giving up, because this is what he wants the most, what he’s longed for so many years even when he had accepted things as they were. This is Jackson asking to keep his heart and offering his in return.

Love.

Jackson is asking and offering love.

Mark can only nod his head, his throat feels filled with primroses and he doesn’t dare to speak.

“Thank goodness,” Jackson sighs. “I was afraid I was going to have to kidnap you to stop you from getting the surgery.”

Mark chuckles, choking on a petal and sees Jackson’s expression falling.

“Mark…” the younger begins, his expression contorted in worry but also fierce determination. “May I kiss you?”

The older breathes deeply through his nose, not daring to part his lips. Jackson’s eyes are intent and honest, nervous. There are real and raw emotions reflected in his eyes, and that alone persuades Mark that it is real, so he nods again and watches the grin spreading on Jacksons lips before he steps so close their bodies are touching, one hand sliding to the back of Mark’s head instead of his cheek, tilting his head gently to the right before leaning in.

It’s soft and careful, a warm pressure of his lips on Mark’s. The eyes of the older fall shut and he sighs, melting against Jackson, his own arms wrapping around the other idol’s waist. The flowers cease moving and the pain is gone, nothing tearing inside Mark’s body. Instead, he just feels Jackson’s warmth, Jackson’s smell, Jackson’s taste.

The younger moves his other arm and wraps it around Mark in a tight embrace, pulling the older even closer as they kiss surer of what’s happening and what they feel. But even if Mark feels Jackson’s tongue against his lips, he doesn’t dare to part them for him, and Jackson understands, so he pulls back.

“I’m sorry for getting the surgery without telling you the truth,” Jackson apologises and Mark feels his eyes filling with tears again.

Mark shakes his head, telling him there’s nothing to be sorry about, he understands. 

“I loved you with all I had,” Jackson continues. “And I’ll love you just as much soon. Can you wait?”

Mark nods his head and watches Jackson smile so beautifully that he really believes him. He knows will get all his feelings back. The younger is nothing but honest.

“I love you,” Mark finally speaks, confessing like he never did and trusting that there won’t be more pain. No more flowers. No more blood. No more mismatched decisions. “I love you,” he repeats, more confident, knowing now that there are no petals in his mouth.

Jackson smiles so happily, playing with the hair at the back oh his head, where his hand is still buried.

This time Jackson kisses him without asking and Mark melts all over again, letting Jackson soothe his aches and exhaustion. Letting his love pour free.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I wrote it~ From the hospital. Thank you for your kind wishes and for reading this story.

The petals don’t disappear from one day to another, for a while Mark continues coughing primrose petals, the only difference is that Jackson is with him, patting his back, soothing encouraging words to help him as the flowers in his stomach disappear. Luckily, the petals never come out with blood again.

Helping Mark, holding him tight after a fit, promising everything will be all right, has helped Jackson to strengthen his feelings for Mark, every day getting closer to how things used to be at one time.

Day after day, the petals become less frequent and Mark is recovering, colour is back to his cheeks, his eyes aren’t hollowed, his body not just a skeleton. Mark looks alive again, healthy and joyful, oh so joyful. Having Jackson, being able to express his feelings makes his shoulders lighter and his whole body buzz with vitality. Mark smiles all the time and he feels with unmeasurable energy. Every time Jacksons looks at him and Mark can see the younger’s emotions reflected in his gaze, Mark knows one of his flowers disappears as he starts to be more and more certain that it’s true, Jackson is loving him back.

Jackson tries not to think of what he did, but it’s impossible when he looks himself in the mirror and sees the scar on his chest, a constant reminder that once he got rid of his feelings for Mark. Regret always makes him wince, because so much would’ve been avoided if he had been more honest about his feelings, if he had just confessed. Pushed by that regret, Jackson makes sure to always follow his heart and be honest with what he feels, especially about Mark.

At night, Jackson often comes to see Mark to his room. The older smiles lazily and moves closer to the wall to make room for Jackson on his bed, the younger immediately cuddles up to him. It’s when Jackson is like that, hugging him without saying anything, just enjoying each other’s company that Mark is reassured it’s happening, he’s not stuck in an unrequited love.

“ _Markie_ ,” Jackson calls from his place next to Mark on his bed, one toned leg over his, wrapping around him. Mark runs his fingers through Jackson’s hair in an absentminded caress. “Why did you think I didn’t love you?”

“Because you treated us all equally. You weren’t more affectionate with me or anything different. I knew you loved me, but as a friend. I guess that’s why I didn’t get sick until you started treating me different. I was happy with you loving me as a friend, at least,” Mark answers honestly. “Why do you think you grew the roses?”

“I think it was because I missed you too much,” Jackson answers. “Being away from you so often, wanting to see you and having to control myself not to make it obvious and ruin things… I was holding myself back, and I think that’s why I got sick.” Mark moves a bit, turning to face Jackson, pressing a loving kiss to his forehead. Mark thinks of Jackson alone, away, in pain, scared and thinking Mark didn’t love him back, and the older feels so guilty for not showing his feelings, for not giving Jackson any hope to stop him from ever getting the flowers. He’ll never stop getting guilty for Jackson having to get the surgery.

“I’m sorry,” Mark mumbles but Jackson is shaking his head already, snuggling closer to Mark, hugging him tighter.

“Let’s stop blaming each other, okay? We never meant to hurt one another.” Mark breathes in deeply, trying to do as Jackson says. 

Mark closes his eyes and just cuddles his boyfriend, breathing deeply to let Jackson’s scent wrap around them, too, making him feel protected and at home. Jackson, his sun and home in a country that’s not his or Jackson’s.

“Do you know I love you?” Jackson asks after a while, softly, like a whisper but in their quiet state, Mark hears him clearly.

The older pulls back just a bit to see in the other’s eyes the honesty and many feelings that swirl in the brown gaze. Mark smiles slowly, feeling so warm and content when he looks at Jackson and can actually feel his devotion and love.

“I do,” Mark smiles widely, feeling his heart fluttering.

“Good, because I love you a lot,” Jackson grins, tilting his head to press a kiss to Mark’s tip of the nose, causing the older to giggle. 

Delighted with the reaction, Jackson starts pressing kisses all over Mark’s face in between of ‘I love you’s that make Mark laugh louder, high pitched, overjoyed. 

Jackson stops to stare in Mark’s eyes, his expression serious and solemn as he raises his hand to cup the older’s cheek. “I love you,” he declares and Mark feels his heart swelling with love, his stomach filled with butterflies, not deadly flowers.

“I love you, too,” Mark replies, smiling so bright and happy.

Returning the gesture, Jackson leans in to finally kiss Mark’s lips, softly but oh so loving.

And that’s just so like them, always making sure the other knows he is loved.


End file.
